A Different World
by King of Winter
Summary: No mother or father could stand to hear insults hurled at their son. It leads to a completely different story, one where the Potter heir will be a man, rather than a steaming pile of ineptitude as he was in canon. AU obviously
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER : I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OTHER THAN A FEW OC's.**

**This is my first fic, so all feedback is welcome. And sorry for the small chapter, I'll try to make it bigger next time. I know that Harry is mentioned as the main character of this story, but he won't be making an appearance for some time. Think of the first few chapters as a sort of lengthy prologue. And when he comes, he will NOT be the same as canon where he fumbles around blindly throughout his life. While this one will have his fair share of luck, but he'll have the skill and talent to back it up.**

**Chapter 1**

James Potter was not looking forward to today.

Ever since he had set eyes on Lily Evans, he knew there was something special about her. At first, he hadn't understood what was happening. I mean, eleven year olds _were _supposed to be clueless about girls. He didn't know at the time, but insulting and pranking a certain greasy haired boy in order to impress the red headed witch wasn't the best of ideas. Especially when said witch and git were longtime friends.

'But seriously, why did she have to bring that up every single time?' thought James. 'I mean, it's been seven years since all that! And I hardly ever prank Snivellus these days! But she just wouldn't give me a chance!'

You see, Lily Evans was a girl who was loyal to her friends. She would never turn her back on them (unless they insult her for no reason, at least). So in Lily's mind, James Potter was the worst sort of person : an arrogant bully, who'd never let up in his supposed quest to embarrass her on a daily basis.

But James understood that.

In his sixth year, he'd finally stopped listening to Sirius, and started listening to Remus in the hopes that maybe his quiet friend, who was also friends with the girl in question, would be able to provide any help. And Remus had told him, in no uncertain terms, that Lily despised him because he was a bully. So he'd tried. He tried so hard not to curse Snivellus, despite how much the greasy git annoyed him, he'd tried not to prank the Slytherins to hell, despite their fucked up notions of blood purity and he'd tried not to ask Lily out every day.

In fact, once he almost went an entire week without asking her.

But, despite all his efforts, Lily still didn't care. She even got a boyfriend during the time, and boy was it tempting to ignore Remus and curse the shit out of that git Jones for daring to touch his Lily! But still, James persisted. He was trying so hard not to be a bully that, even the professors noticed the change in him. He even stopped first year Slytherins from being bullied by the older years in the hope of Lily changing her mind about him! Incidentally, this was what led Albus Dumbledore to name him Head Boy, not that James knew about it. To James, it seemed that the old headmaster had finally cracked for good.

But despite all his efforts, when he asked Lily out near the end of their sixth year, she'd thrown his words back at his face. He'd stood there, not saying a word, while she spat at his affections and his name, as though the Potter name was worth nothing, and continued insulting him. He didn't know how long he could remain silent before he snapped and cursed her, but luckily, Sirius had come running to where he was, and dragged him away, all the while glaring at Lily hatefully.

James sighed, looking at the mirror. Today was his seventeenth birthday, and he knew he shouldn't be starting the day off with brooding over Lily. But he was out of time. You see, when he'd realized that what he felt for Lily was more than just a passing fancy, he written to his parents to tell them of it. And they'd been very understanding of his situation, and gave him a deal. He would have time until his seventeenth birthday to try and get Lily to fall in love with him, and they'd let him marry her. The Potters were an old pureblood family, and while they didn't have anything against those wizards and witches born of muggle descent, they knew that having a Potter heir marry a muggleborn would almost certainly tarnish some of the family's name and image. And to a Potter, family was everything.

But when Charles and Dorea Potter heard from James about his infatuation, they did a few background checks on Lily Evans to see if there was any quality in her that would make a fine addition to the Potter family. And needless to say, they were satisfied with what they had found : an incredibly talented young witch, and the favourite of the Hogwarts professors. Why, with the way they'd heard Filius and Minerva go on about her, you'd think Lily would be the future Minister of Magic!

And so, the deal. James had to get Lily to fall for him before his seventeenth birthday, or he would have to marry a witch of his parents' choice. A muggleborn would have probably found it appalling to be forced into a marriage, but such was the way of the wealthier families throughout the wizarding world. It is common in the muggle world too.

Sighing again, James went to the bathroom to do his morning ablutions. Exiting, he walked to his wardrobe and dressed, choosing a set of midnight blue robes with a dark golden lining- robes fitting for an heir to wear for his coming-of-age day. As he walked towards the study of their villa, he felt a growing sense of apprehension at what he knew would come.

'Well, Gryffindors charge forward,' he thought wryly, and opened the door, causing the two people inside to look up at him and smile slightly.

"Good morning mother, father," said James, affection underlying the formal greeting. His father Charles was a man in his late forties. With dark hair and hazel eyes, it was easy to see how many people saw the image of James as the image of his father.

"And to you as well, son," said Charles, smiling slightly. Standing, he walked over to James and presented a small box from his pocket. "Happy birthday James," he said hugging his son. On opening the box, James saw a golden wrist watch, with silver stars for dials against a black background. He put it on, and was happy to see that it fit perfectly on his wrist. Looking back at his father and smiling, he said "Thanks Dad".

He got a proud smile from his father, as Charles walked back to his plush armchair behind a mahogany desk. Turning, he saw that his mother had come up to him to clasp him by his shoulders. Looking into her stormy grey eyes, he could feel her pride and happiness at him. Dorea Potter was a beautiful woman, having the long thick black tresses and grey eyes that were the norm for all members born into the infamous Black family. With her gleaming eyes, high cheeks, and full lips, it hadn't taken Charles Potter very long before falling in love with her. And the Blacks, knowing a good alliance when they saw one, had no qualms with accepting the offer from the Potter family.

"Happy birthday, my son," said Dorea, also hugging him. Releasing him, she stepped back smiling and returned to her seat on the armchair by the fireplace. Looking over the fireplace, James saw the Potter family crest; a majestic silver stag prancing against a dark black background. Beneath it, were the Potter words : "Ours is the Fury!". When he was younger, James had often wondered about the reason behind those words. When he finally asked his father about it when he was ten years old, just before going to Hogwarts for his first year, Charles had told him a tale of the origins of the Potter family, how the Potter family had risen to prominence after the first Potter had destroyed an entire battalion of Spaniards during one of the Spanish invasions of England, after the Spanish had landed near a small village in what is now Wales.

James was brought out of his musings as Charles spoke, "Now that you are of age son, I think it is time to discuss your future." James grimaced, but nodded. "Good, then take a seat," continued Charles, ignoring his son's discomfort. "So, have you been successful with your efforts with Miss Evans?"

James sighed and shook his head. "No Dad, I haven't. She's rebuffed me every single time I have tried," he said in a low voice.

Dorea frowned, saying "And what is her reason for refusing you so?". James grimaced again. He had hoped that they wouldn't ask him this, hoping that they would just move on. 'Oh well. At least I tried,' he thought morosely. He knew what would happen once he told them how Lily had treated him.

"Her words were something along the lines of myself being an arrogant toe rag, mum.." he trailed off seeing his mother's face harden. Looking at his father, he saw the same thing. Dorea looked at Charles with a look that he'd never seen on his mother's face before. He

"Is that so?" asked Charles softly. "In that case, you should go and dress appropriately, James. We have set up a...date for you at the Falling Star," he said smiling at the look on James' face.

"You mean today?! B-But-" James' sputtering was cut off by his mother saying "Yes dear, today. And honey, I hope you won't be like that. It most certainly won't make an impression on your future wife," she said smirking.

"Future wife?! But mum! S-shouldn't I be in agreement?" James choked out. Surely they hadn't signed a contract!

"I'm sure that won't be a problem, James dear," laughed Dorea, "I think you'll find our..selection quite..interesting to say the least," she said, still smiling.

"And before you interrupt again James, please remember that your appointment with the lady is today, so go and get dressed. You will find a portkey in the lobby that is set to go off in an hour's time," Charles said quickly, effectively shutting up James stuttering. "And I do hope you won't get so tongue-tied in front of the young lady, James," added Charles with a grin shared by his wife. "Now go, get yourself dressed. Go on," he said, smiling as James walked out of the study with a look of utter trepidation.

However, the happy look didn't linger for long on Charles' face. Within a few seconds, the smiling face was replaced by a hard look as he looked over to Dorea who mirrored his face. When she spoke, her eyes flashed in rage and she looked remarkably similar to Orion Black when he was cooking up a particularly nasty scheme that promised pain. Which in Orion Black's case, was nearly all the time. "Will you do it, or should I?" said Dorea in a tone that made Charles almost feel sorry for the girl. Almost, but not quite.

"No, I'll do it," he said coldly, "She will pay for insulting our family in that way, I assure you that. Lily Evans is going to see all her silly dreams broken. It'll perhaps teach her some proper manners and respect," he finished in a low voice laced with anger.

While he and Dorea, and his ancestors before him were by no means bigoted against muggleborns or half-bloods like some other families because of their complete ignorance or lack of respect they showed, they did expect a modicum of courtesy. Although with the way things were going, he wasn't surprised that the dark wizard styling himself Lord Voldemort was gaining more and more support in his movement against muggles and muggleborns. Throughout his life, from his days at Hogwarts to the times when he worked at the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and now as a member of the Wizengamot, the parliament of Wizarding Britain, he could not help but see a lot of muggleborns constantly trying to change the way things were run. From the way the Ministry worked to trying to change the hereditary nature of the seats of the Wizengamot, there were always muggleborns trying to show to wizards that the muggle ways were better. He snorted internally at the thought. When he was a young man, just out of Hogwarts, he had travelled the world, to see and learn about the different cultures, both wizarding and muggle alike. And from what he saw of the muggles, he knew they were a crude lot, with no order or any sense of culture for the most part. Sure, there was no denying the fact that muggles had made some truly fabulous discoveries and inventions and that they were truly amazing when it came to survival without magic. But, they were constantly at war amongst themselves, and that was a mark of how barbaric they were. There hadn't been a wizarding war between two countries for nearly two centuries, not counting Grindelwald's rebellion three decades ago that spilled over to the muggles as well. But the muggles had waged war more times than he could count since 1945, despite the massive loss of lives in that horrible war.

He was brought out of his musings by Dorea leaving the study after a quick nod of affirmation. He knew where she was going, probably to ensure that James didn't mess up his morning with the young lady. He smiled in spite of it, he was certain that James would appreciate seeing _her_ again after so long. Well, there was no reason to dawdle any longer, and his face hardened and smiled in anticipation. Going behind his desk, and sitting at the armchair, he pulled out a few sheets of parchment and inked an eagle-feather quill gifted by James for his birthday a few months back, and started writing a few letters to a some of his friends.

**So that's it for the first one. Liked it? Hated it? **


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER : I OWN NOTHING.**

**Sorry for the slow update, I'm having problems with my internet. On another note, I managed to increase the chapter length! Wohooo!**

**Chapter 2**

After leaving Charles and Dorea in the study, James walked back to his rooms upstairs, lost in thought about the approaching meeting that he would have with the someone who could just turn out to be his future wife. Despite how Lily might have thought him a womanizer or skirt-chaser, he had never been involved with another witch during his six years at Hogwarts. Sure, he _had_ flirted and messed around with a lot of girls, but he had never taken it beyond that. _I was an idiot, _he thought wryly as he slowly ascended the stairs to the upper floor of his family villa. _I could have had so much fun if I'd just let her go, _he mused, a part of him cursing Lily for being a bitch, and himself for all the times he made things seem so important and heart-wrenching. Entering his room, he took a moment to appraise his room.

His room was decorated in the colours of Gryffindor, with red and gold hangings on the walls, a golden carpet with dark red linings and even bed sheets of red and gold. To anyone from any other house of Hogwarts (and even a few Gryffindors as well), the room would've been an eyesore. But, James was always proud of Gryffindor, never doubting that it was indeed the best House there could be at Hogwarts, far better than reclusive Ravenclaw, ordinary Hufflepuff, and evil, slimy Slytherin. But for some reason that James could not fathom, his father and mother had always been disapproving of his choice of colour schemes in decoration of his room. The two of them never mentioned it outright or tried to get him to change it, but every time either Dorea entered his room, he could see from the way the smile on her face became somewhat fixed and her tone would be more stiff than it should have. Charles on the other hand, would always frown in annoyance whenever he came here. It would vanish in an instant, but over the years, James had seen the frown linger more and more. It was almost as though his father was disappointed in his choice. But since there had never been any complaints from them, James never paid it much mind.

On his shelves of dark mahogany rested his many laurels from Quidditch and duelling. James had joined the Gryffindor Quidditch team in his second year as a chaser, easily out flying some of the sixth years who had attempted the tryouts. Ever since then, the Gryffindor Quidditch team had held on to the Quidditch Cup, for four years in a row. In most of the matches that he played in, James would easily dominate the course of the match, scoring without any mercy. He would fly like a demon, in such a way that the opposing team could never catch a break from his onslaught, breaking up their plays on goal, harassing their beaters and distracting their seekers to the point that by his fourth year, he was named Quidditch Captain by Professor McGonagall over several older and more experienced players of the team. And the proof that she made the right decision was resting in his room, displayed proudly. The Quaffle from the last three Quidditch Cup tournaments, given to the player who scored the most goals in the tournament, all three of them.

He had entered the junior duelling circuit when he was finished with his third year of schooling. With a bit of luck, and a lot of training from his father and some practice with Sirius, he had done well in all the tournaments that he had participated in. He might not have won all of them, but that didn't prevent him from taking down opponents three years his senior during his first tournament, the England and Wales Crosswands, one of the oldest duelling tournaments of Wizarding England. He was eventually outclassed by Gideon Prewett, who was entering his seventh year at Hogwarts then. Since then, he also sparred with Prewett in Hogwarts during his fourth year. And by the time he became an animagus, he was regularly using transfiguration in his duels, using it to great success against the more orthodox duellers, something that earned him a lot of praise from Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick on returning to Hogwarts, something that annoyed Lily to no end. She too had entered in a tournament just a few weeks back, and had promptly gotten herself knocked out by one of the wildcards, a fourteen year old, in the first round, something that still had Sirius chortling whenever he mentioned it. James wasn't too surprised by her defeat. Sure, she was a very talented witch, but with virtually no experience in duelling and by underestimating her opponent, there wasn't really any other result that could have happened. He knew what his mother or father would say to that. Before today, they would have been somewhat sympathetic towards her, but now, he was pretty sure that they would find a vindictive pleasure from her embarrassing defeat.

As far as James was concerned, this year was to be his last year on the duelling rings. At least, it would be his last as far as the junior circuits were concerned because the limiting age for the juniors was 17. And he doubted he'd be as successful in the adult circuit, where the duellers with years and years of experience and knowledge could participate alongside the freshly graduated school students. He knew for a fact that Filius Flitwick, his Professor in Charms at Hogwarts, still made the occasional appearance at the Rome Duelling Championships, as well as the far more prestigious All Europe Masters Tournament in Vienna in spite of having officially retired. Two years ago, after James and Sirius had entered the afore-mentioned tournament in Vienna and come out as runner-up and champion respectively, they had decided to watch the finals of the senior tournament. To say that they were shocked that one of the finalists had been their easy-going charms professor would be like calling Hagrid, Hogwarts' gamekeeper, a moderately tall man. However it was not the last time they would be stunned, for the diminutive cheerful wizard they had known for the past four years bore no resemblance to the person who was flinging curses and spells all over the ring while running so fast that his body appeared more of a blur rather than anything else. James simply could not fathom how his professor was capable of such speed and power. Flitwick's technique ensured that his opponent, a tall witch with dark brown hair and an athletic physique, was constantly on the defensive right from the start, and she couldn't do more than dodge and shield throughout the course of the entire duel. Eventually, the wispy haired demon that was Professor Flitwick started to ramp up the intensity of his attacks to an even greater degree, making James and Sirius' jaws drop even more and breaking through the shields of the witch, hitting her with five spells in the span of two seconds, throwing her out of the ring, causing Flitwick to be declared the winner.

Besides the increased difficulty of the senior duels, James had no desire to keep duelling throughout his life. The only reason he had taken to duelling was because Sirius was hell-bent on becoming a duelling champion. Sirius had claimed that such credentials would prove useful when he applied for the Auror Academy, to which James had scoffed. He had known from his father that the Aurors were mostly underworked, with mountains of paper work over little to no reason, and very little field work. Unless there was a dark lord or lady on the rise, Aurors usually had absolutely nothing to do other than sit behind a desk at the Ministry of Magic seventy hours a week. Aurors were only used as a last resort, when the entire country was in danger. Most of the petty crimes like murder and kidnappings were handled by the Magical Law Enforcers, which required very little training. No, James had always wanted to become a Healer. Although his Potions were not comparable to those of Lily or Snape, they were still amongst the best in class, especially if Professor Slughorn's comments were anything to go by.

A crack of apparition shook him out of his musings. Looking away from the numerous laurels of flying and duelling skill, he noticed one of his family elves standing by the side of his queen sized bed. The creature was roughly as tall as his waist, with dark greyish tinted skin, small hands and legs and a head that was roughly twice the size of its torso. House elves were a race of beings whose greatest pleasure was to work. Most of the house elves these days shared a symbiotic bond with wizarding families. This bond ensured the house elves' undying loyalty to the family while giving the house elves a boost to their magical powers. There were some families that abused the loyalty of the house elves, treating them little more than slaves, but for the most part, house elves were treated rather well, despite the wizards getting the better end of the stick from the bond.

"Mistress Dorea be telling Tillie to give these to you, Master James," squeaked the elf, holding a set of dark green dress robes on one small hand and a neatly wrapped parcel on the other. "Mistress saying these robes be for Master's meeting, sir, and this," continued the elf, pushing the parcel onto James' hands, "for Master James' Mistress," she squeaked happily at the mention of the girl who he was to meet.

"Thanks Tillie, you may go now," smiled James, properly flustering the small elf. Despite the fact that she had been working for the Potter family ever since James had been a young boy, she was still unused to the somewhat kinder attitude of her new family, having being raised to expect the worst as a young elf. "Yes Master," responded Tillie, before disappearing with the cracking sound that accompanied apparition. James sighed before taking the dark grey robes with silver linings from where his elf had placed them on his bed and made his way to the small room attached to his bedroom that served as a rather extravagant wardrobe. Stripping down from his current wear, he dressed before checking his appearance in his full length mirror that stood opposite the door. At nearly six feet tall, with dark hair falling messily over his face and with soft hazel eyes covered with wire framed glasses, he bore an uncanny resemblance with his father. Looking at the mirror, he realised that he needed to let go of his hopes of being with Lily, unless he wanted to displease his mother and father. So, taking his wand, he waved it over his hair, changing its appearance from the constantly windblown look that he had previously thought Lily would find attractive. His hair changed from messy to a more cleaner, elegant style, with only a few loose bangs framing his forehead. And finally, he removed his glasses, folding them and placing them before the mirror. _Time to grow up,_ he thought bitterly. The glasses had been another of his attempts to impress Lily, hoping that she would find him more studious. Needless to say, neither of his hair nor his glasses had any impression on the red haired witch.

His musings were interrupted by a voice behind him saying amusedly, "Just who are you and what have you done with my son?" Turning around, he saw his mother Dorea standing behind him with her hands folded in front of her, chuckling with mirth. "Nice to see someone's enjoying my plight," he responded, his lips quirking in a half smile, to which she swatted at his shoulder. He laughed as she started fussing over his robes, which resembled a muggle tuxedo, straightening the tie and smoothening out non-existent wrinkles saying cheerfully, "These belonged to your father. I remember he wore these the day he and I were betrothed," smiling at the widening of his eyes.

"Yes dear, I am hopeful that they would give you the same success as well," she continued, stepping back holding him by the shoulders, looking up at him in appraisal to which he grinned. "I do think you look positively smashing," said his reflection behind him, to which her grin widened.

Taking his arm, Dorea led him out of his wardrobe, all the while smiling at him with a look that gave him the feeling of being pranked, a feeling that had been honed after six years of pranking the living daylights out of almost everyone who had attended Hogwarts during that time, especially the Slytherins.

"Mum, why do I get the feeling that you're about to prank me?" he asked with some apprehension to which she laughed and replied, "I don't know what you're talking about honey. Although that brings me to something I've been wanting to speak to you about," she trailed off, and abruptly stopped their walk through the hallways connecting his room to the stairwell. She turned around, a frown on her face and spoke in a serious tone, "Don't think I don't know what you've been getting up to in school, James Charles Potter."

He cringed at the use of his full name, something that she only used when she was disappointed with him. Not angry, but disappointed. For all his enthusiasm and carefree attitude with which he lived, James loved his mother and father and wanted nothing more in his life than making them proud. Sadly, it was his desire of making his parents proud that had gotten twisted into pranking. It might seem bizarre how those two completely different things are related, but it came down to seeking approval from his peers each time he pranked the Slytherins or Filch, the squib caretaker at Hogwarts who despised all the students with a passion (which probably stemmed from the students being able to do magic which was out of his reach). So in a truly unfortunate twist, his desire to make his mother and father proud had twisted into pranking the majority of the student population making them resent him and his group of friends, something that Dorea was aware of from the letters from several of her friends who had children at Hogwarts. And she knew that as the future head of House Potter, it wouldn't do to have so many people who'd be more than willing to get a little payback for all the humiliation that her son had caused them during their teenage years. And she needed to get that point across as soon as possible, before he caused any more damage to their reputation.

"I've been getting several letters from my former classmates James," she continued, lowering her voice, with her eyebrows creased, "that you and your friends are constantly upsetting their children with your childish pranks! I do not know the reason behind this, nor do I particularly want to. But enough is enough. You are of age now, and you will start to act like it!" She stopped at seeing his face, which had gone from his usual grinning self to looking down at the floor, completely expressionless. She sighed, frustrated. She knew that he looked up to her and Charles for their approval ever since he was a child, going to anything to gain their attention and approval. But, neither she nor Charles had ever thought that it would lead to her son becoming a bully, always thinking that seeing his happy face was better than a sad one that would come from reprimanding him. But she also knew that he would obey her without question because of a tiny incident a few years ago.

_It was the summer after James' third year, and he was already driving the elves up the walls with his antics. She sighed, heading to the kitchens where the two Potter family elves Tillie and Tally were shrieking and wailing in despair. She could see why : the elves, instead of being their regular dark grey coloured selves were now a shocking pink with green patches here and there. She clenched her jaw and waved her wand, cancelling the discolouration and said exasperatedly, "Did James do this?" to which the elves nodded with great reluctance. She nodded and walked out, only to find James strolling towards the kitchens again with a roguish grin on his face. "I really wish you wouldn't torment the elves so, dear," she muttered frustratingly._

_She saw him stop walking, his face morphing into one of sadness and his shoulders stooping. Looking down at his feet, he whispered, "I'm sorry mum, it won't happen again". She stopped and knelt, embracing him. _

_"Shh, it's alright honey," she murmured in his ear. After a minute, she withdrew and looked at him smiling softly. "Just don't prank them James. While they are bound by magic to serve us, they'll be more loyal if treated right. Okay?"she asked him softly, to which he nodded vigorously. "That's my son," she smiled, kissing his forehead, before standing up and walking out._

Since then, not once had he pranked their elves. Indeed, both Tillie and Tally had changed their attitude from being slightly apprehensive around him to squeaking with happiness if he so much as spoke to them.

She was brought out of her thoughts by him shuffling his feet and apologizing. "-try not to do it again, mum," he was murmuring, chastised. She smiled at him to reassure him, and nodded in approval. "That's all I ask," she replied back. "Now come on, the portkey won't wait for you!" she sang, and pulled him with her, laughing as she heard him groan, voicing his discomfort with his situation.

Entering the lobby, she nodded towards the small steel spoon lying on a table and said, "That's your portkey. Now, be courteous to her at all times James, it won't do if you upset her in any way with your manners. Do you hear me?" she demanded, and on seeing his frantic nod, she grinned, "Not that you wouldn't play nice with her. .although, if I know you, you'll be quite pleased with who she is," smirked Dorea to which James whined again, asking about the identity of the mysterious girl who apparently his mother thought he'd like, inwardly thinking how difficult that was going to be after Lily's response.

"Now go, it will activate when you touch it," said Dorea, and nodding to her, James stepped forward and extended his left index finger towards the portkey. "Have a good time," smiled Dorea as James vanished before her eyes, no doubt on his way towards the Falling Star, a restaurant in Manchester's wizarding district, one that was quite formal and catered to the wealthy. She hoped he would enjoy himself, she had taken quite a bit of effort to arrange this meeting between her son and her hopefully soon-to-be-daughter in law. She turned around and was met with the sight of Charles leaning against the door frame with a slight smile on his face. He extended a hand towards her, and she took it. No words were spoken between the older couple as walked out of the room, arm in arm.

**And that's it for chapter 2! R&R please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

As soon as his finger touched the spoon that served as the portkey, James felt as though a hook had latched on to his navel and pulled. He felt his surroundings vanish in a blur of color as he left his home and started moving his legs as though he was jogging in order to not wind up sprawled on the floor - the trick to travelling by portkey. After what felt like a few seconds, he felt his feet touch the ground, and he bent his knees to soften the impact. Straightening, he vanished the spoon and surveyed his surroundings. He was standing in one of the corners reserved for magical transport of the Manchester Wizarding District, which was the Manchester equivalent of the London Wizarding District, Diagon Alley. But there were a few differences between the two areas as far the general atmosphere were concerned. Diagon Alley was a hotbed of shopping for the general needs of the people, most notably the students who attended Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry who would find most of their accessories for school from the shops there. It also housed the English branch of the goblin run bank Gringotts, meaning that the alley was almost constantly busy, filled with wizards and witches hurrying about on their daily needs. The Manchester Wizarding District, also called Bootclick Lane, was an area that catered to other needs like the warding offices (where people could hire warders to protect their homes), wizarding law firms, and a few restaurants among other establishments. However, unlike the tavern 'The Leaky Cauldron' in Diagon Alley, the restaurants along Bootclick Lane catered more to the upper class of wizarding society. They offered more than the simple English dishes that were available in the Leaky Cauldron, and also had a much more comfortable atmosphere compared to the dingy inn which had its fair share of dodgy and shady individuals as patrons - hardly an ideal place for the heir of a pureblood family like the Potters would meet his prospective wife.

Amongst these upper-class restaurants, the Falling Star was something of a galleon among sickles. Unlike the other restaurants in Bootclick Lane, the clientele of the Falling Star were served by wizards and witches as opposed to house elves. This made the restaurant one of the most desired places in the entirety of Wizarding Britain, because of the sheer wealth needed to afford a meal there. In fact, most of the guests of the Falling Star were usually members of the ancient pureblood families, with even the occasional foreign dignitary once in a while. It was a symbol of wealth amongst the families, because most of the families often invited another family to dinner here, in the hopes of starting the makeshift beginnings of an alliance.

With such a reputation behind the place, James couldn't help but feel more than a little apprehensive. That his parents had arranged meeting with one of the candidates for the future Lady Potter in the Falling Star meant that whoever the girl was, his parents respected her family enough to give them the first chance. Then there was also the subtle impression on _him_ to ensure that, in the event of the meeting not panning out as thought, the girl would still feel happy enough for her family to at least be on cordial terms with the Potter family. Shuddering internally, James cursed Lily Evans for putting him through all this: having to play host to what would undeniably be a snobby, pampered, arrogant princess who was most likely incapable of looking straight with the way she would indisputably turn her nose at just about anything and everything. As he thought about all this, he felt a surge of anger towards the red headed muggleborn witch who thought she was above him, as though she was _his_ better. He took a deep breath, and enforced his mediocre Occlumency barriers. After all, it would not do to be angry and lose his temper, not today.

Taking deep breaths and carefully counting to ten, he felt his barriers rise and secure themselves over the confines of his mind. Slowly, he could feel his anger ebbing like a tide, his mind gradually emptying of the thoughts which had set his pulse racing and gave him a need to find something, or more accurately, _someone_, to curse until they couldn't remember their name. It took longer than he would have liked because while he knew Occlumency, since the heirs to all the old families were taught the skill in order to protect the family knowledge and secrets, he wasn't too proficient with it. He had been taught Occlumency from an early age by his mother, and it was one of the reasons he had been able to keep himself calm and collected whenever Lily started one of her rants about him in the Gryffindor common room. However, he was completely unsuccessful whenever _Snivellus_ tried so much as whispered anything remotely demeaning to him or his friends, he'd find himself waking up in the hospital wing with slugs coming out of his greasy hair with no idea how that could have happened. His mother had told him that he wasn't proficient at it because of his excitable nature, which he thought accurate. He was in the habit of getting excited over little things after all. Indeed, Remus had always wondered why that was so because even _Sirius_ didn't get mood swings like he did. Chuckling to himself at the thought of his pranking partner and his brother in all but blood, and the constantly moody, moping werewolf, James started walking from the portkey point in the corner of the Lane, and set off for the Falling Star. He couldn't directly travel to the building because of the strong wards and enchantments that usually guarded such buildings as precautionary methods. After all, it wouldn't do if some aspiring dark wizard suddenly decided to attack a place where the elite were known to gather. Of course, that's not to say that these wards and spells were always successful, but they could at least give fair warning in case of an attack, taking away the advantage of a surprise raid.

James soon found himself standing in front of a double storied building made entirely from a dark grayish colored stone adorned with simple, yet tasteful designs etched into the stone. The windows were tall and wide enough that Hagrid could walk through them, and used blue crystal in the place of glass. It was set in a compound well behind the main paved path of Bootclick Lane, the compound being decorated with lawns and flowerbeds and fountains. The entire place reeked of money. It was said that the restaurant cost six million galleons and nearly two years to build, which was not counting the money needed to import all the stone from Egypt, if you were to believe the rumors. And whoever he was to meet was going to be inside, waiting for him. Taking another deep breath, James continued walking past the heavy bronze gates, up the path and on to the verandah of the Falling Star.

The wizard standing at the entrance was dressed in standard black robes over a white dress shirt and black trousers, with a name tag pinned over his chest. He seemed familiar to James, and after a second, he recognized him as one of the muggleborn Gryffindor students who had passed out when James was still a fourth year. It was quite difficult for the muggleborn students to get accepted into wizarding society unless they were prepared to play by the rules, which is something that should be expected even in the muggle world. But in spite of that, the muggleborns refused to adapt and change, always protesting against the seemingly backward traditions and workings of the wizarding world and constantly trying to change it to their liking. While James was always friendly with muggleborns and no issues with them, he didn't know that his father and especially his mother looked down on muggleborns. They weren't bigots like some families including the Blacks (excluding Sirius and Andromeda), the Malfoys or the Lestranges who were always outspoken in their belief of the inferiority of anyone of muggle descent, but they weren't too fond of muggleborns like the Weasleys or Albus Dumbledore, who insisted on more and more changes in order to supposedly 'help' the muggleborns get adjusted into their world. And while neither Charles nor Dorea were against helping the newcomers find their place in society and adjust to their new lives, they could never stand it when some of the continuous complaints by the muggleborns against nearly everything starting from something as silly and trivial as magical travel and writing methods to the need to keep themselves separate from the muggle world. James himself had heard their arguments, as some of the muggleborns who had taken up law would sometimes come to their house for dinner or tea to try and gain the Potters' support for passing some bill in the Wizengamot to get better rights. And he would also see the tightening of his father's face while his mother would turn away from the rant so that none could see her expression of rage when the ignorant muggleborns would unknowingly insult their family and friends by labeling a certain tradition as barbaric. More often than not, most of the muggleborns were rebuffed in a cold fury, making them all but run from their villa. He didn't realize it, nor would he ever, but this was one of the reasons why James and Sirius had become fast friends. It was better and easier for them to get along, two pureblood heirs to old families in a house with a rather high population of muggleborns, Sirius more so than James. James snapped his attention back the man at the door started speaking to him.

"Good morning, and welcome to the Falling Star, sir. How may I help you?" he spoke, inclining his head at James, the proper way to greet a guest. James smiled inwardly, there was no way someone who was too _muggle_ could ever work here, because the management demanded courtesy at all times and required the workers to be respectful to all customers. Which meant knowledge of the pureblood way of life.

"Yes, I have a reservation here for breakfast. Table for two, my mother said," replied James inclining his head in turn.

"Could I have the name, sir?" asked the man.

"Potter," replied James. He was treated with a slight widening of the eyes of the man, who probably had connected the dots from Potter to the resident Gryffindor trouble maker during his time at school. The man quickly recovered and ushered him into the restaurant, directing him to a small table inside an alcove, where James and his companion for the morning would be able to eat and talk in relative peace without being overheard. It seemed that he was early as there wasn't anybody else in the alcove. James inwardly thanked his stars for the bit of luck, and turning to the man, he smiled and gave him a galleon as tip. The man, expected to such tips, accepted it without blinking and bowed slightly before he walked back outside the Falling Star. The inside of the Falling Star were lit by numerous glowing orbs placed above the different tables, each emitting different colors of lights. To go with the faint glow produced by the werelights, he could also hear a soft humming music, just enough to add to the soothing ambience but at the same time not intrusive either. All in all, there was something about the place that calmed him to some extent. James looked at his table, which was illuminated in a pale blue light by the bright werelight above him and took a seat facing away from the door. While he wasn't instantly recognizable by some of the others who frequented the Falling Star, there was still a chance that someone from one of the boring soirees and gala events that he had to attend could identify him and come over for some meaningless small talk. And right now, in his current nervousness, he was confident that he would offend someone in some way, which could make his mother disappointed with him. And _that_ was something he didn't want in the least. At the very least, he supposed it was a good thing that he wasn't someone like Sirius, who while hating most of the people in his family, was still a Black despite his mother trying to disown him, the key word being trying. Only the heads of the old families had the authority to disown, banish or reinstate family members. And thankfully for Sirius, he always had a good rapport with the current head, his great uncle Pollux Black. And because Sirius was a member of a Most Noble and Ancient House, there was absolutely no chance that he could ever hope to remain incognito in a place like this. Whereas James' was from a relatively new family which rose to prominence during one of the battles in the war against France during the time of the French general Napoleon Bonaparte despite being in existence for nearly two centuries at the time.

To calm himself and gain some modicum of control over his thoughts, James started to clear his mind with the help of his Occlumency barriers. The process took quite a few minutes, as he was never that great at the art like his mother, who could become stoic and unemotional within a matter of a second if needed, but he was proud that he had managed to accomplish at least this much in area of magic he had no talent in. Of course, his shields would never last long against a capable Legilimens, a witch or a wizard who was capable of attacking the mind (the opposite of an Occlumens), but they would be enough to warn of the attack taking place and hopefully identify the attacker. To pass the time, he looked into the pale blue werelight suspended a few feet above his table, radiating a comforting amount of heat. As he gazed at the endless depths of the enchantment, his ears also found notes and strains of the music played. He idly realized that it was the tune of one of the songs sung during this year's Beltane festival, which he had attended in a grove near Cardiff. Of course, he didn't participate in any of the _procreational_ activities, he _was_ a minor after all or rather, he had been. He, Sirius, Remus, Peter and several of their peers had left Hogwarts during the weekend of Beltane and travelled to their respective groves. Sirius had gone to a grove near London, Remus had gone to one near Edinburgh and Peter to a gathering by Cornwall. James had mostly sang and danced with a few other nameless, faceless strangers around one of the magical werelights for most of those two nights, feeling no need to rest or stop between the dances, exhilarated by the heady sense of the raw magic created by the celebration. It had been the first time that he had been allowed to go to a grove, because of the extremely potent magic that permeated everything, both living and non living, during the festival. Therefore, children of an age less than 16 would either stay at Hogwarts or at their homes. Remembering his two days of complete and utter ecstasy brought a smile to James' face, he really was looking forward to attending next year's celebration.

He was brought out of his musings by a waiter addressing him about his choice of food or drink. Turning to face the man, he replied, "No, I'm afraid I'm waiting for someone to join me. I'll let you know when we are ready to place our order." Nodding his head, the waiter walked off to wherever he came from, leaving James to his wandering thoughts once more.

It started off faintly, but slowly he could the sounds of screams and blasts coming from outside the building. Looking around, he could see several others making to the windows to see what was happening outside. Feeling troubled, he too joined the small group of elderly wizards at the nearest full-length windows and looked outside. What he saw shocked him to the core.

It seemed as though the normally quiet peaceful path of Bootclick Lane had been turned into a war zone with the usually neat and smoothly arranged stones of the path blown up and the path itself dotted with numerous small craters from hexes and curses. A few windows of the other buildings were shattered and some of the windows were stained with red, that looked awfully like blood. And what was even worse was that there were several people on the ground, moaning in pain from injuries, and others unmoving - either unconscious or dead. And finally there were a group of people clad in dark black robes with the hoods drawn up. Their faces were covered by silver masks resembling skulls. And they were tossing spells around the Lane with little concern who they might hit - which they probably didn't. James recognized them. Feeling a surge of hate towards the masked Death Eaters, the servants of the dark wizard who called himself Voldemort, he flicked his left hand, summoning his twelve inch mahogany wand, and dashed towards the entrance of the restaurant, ignoring the gasps and shocked exclamations of the people around him. Wrenching open the door, he ran to the main path of the Lane, ready to fight the fanatics, cursing his dress robes - they would surely make dodging and evading spell fire quite difficult. On the way, he cast a few charms to hide the Potter crest on his dress robes - it wouldn't do for the Death Eaters to suddenly target him or his family after all.

When he reached the main path, he could see that several witches and wizards were scrambling away from the spell fire of the Death Eaters, with a few fighting back. Gritting his teeth, James aimed his wand at the nearest group of Death Eaters who were all fighting a dark haired witch and ground out, "_Expulso!_" The explosion curse hit true and the Death Eater's torso exploded in a shower of blood and gore. The other two Death Eaters and the witch paused, momentarily stunned, and the fight resumed, with the witch dueling one Death Eater and him dueling the other. Ducking below the tell-tale red unforgivable curse, James began twirling his wand in a set of intricate patterns, muttering the incantation under his breath, all the while moving sideways so as to avoid the volley of curses thrown his way by the Death Eater. Finishing his incantation, James stabbed his wand vertically into the air, panting slightly due to the toll exacted from the complex bit of battle transfiguration. The effect was almost instantaneous. The ground below the Death Eater shot up between his legs in the shape of a fist, made entirely of stone nearly as thick as James' thigh. The Death Eater clutched his nether region with both hands, dropping his wand, let out a pained gurgle before falling to James' stunning spell. For good measure, James bound the downed man in conjured ropes with a silent spell, and turned to the other dueling pair. He was just in time to see the other Death Eater fall with a scream and the crunch of breaking bones at the hands of the dark haired witch. Looking at him briefly, she nodded her thanks and ran further down the Lane to assist the other fighters against the Death Eaters.

Sighing, and muttering a charm to make the dress robes contract making them skin tight, James joined the fray with the witch who was now facing two other Death Eaters. He added his own stunner and reductor curse at the Death Eater who blocked them both with a summoned piece of glass. Scowling as he dodged out of the way of a Cruciatus curse and sidestepped a violent curse that would shear his body into two pieces, James responded with one of the dueling chains that he had learned from his time on the circuit. He started off with a simple disarming jinx, following that up with the impediment jinx, the standard cutting curse, the stunning hex, and ending with a reductor curse, only for the Death Eater to lazily dodge the first two spells before putting up a shield to block the cutter and the stunner before it broke under the power of his reductor curse. _Damn, this bastard's not half bad,_ he thought before thinking, _Confringo!_ With his wand aimed at the ground a few feet away from his target, the Death Eater hopped away from the curse instead of shielding it. Using the dust from the explosion created by the blasting curse, James jabbed his wand, converting the dust to numerous wasps, which he directed at the Death Eater. The Death Eater, surprised by the tactic, took a moment before incinerating the transfigured insects with hot orange flames coursing from his wand. James grinned while sending a silent stunning hex, confident that it would hit, only for the grin to be wiped off his face as the Death Eater nimbly side stepped the stunner. He couldn't be sure, but James had the feeling that the Death Eater was smirking at him behind his mask. Growling, the Potter heir hastily spun in a small circle to avoid the next curse which headed his way. Completely his awkward spin, he jabbed his wand at the Death Eater only for the incantation to die on his lips as he watched the Death Eater get blasted to the side, hitting the walls of a nearby shop and falling to the ground in a bloody heap. Turning, he could see the dark haired witch from earlier pointing her wand at the spot where the Death Eater had stood before, the Death Eater who she had been dueling trussed up around her feet with ropes and bleeding from numerous injuries, making his eyes widen slightly. Regaining his bearings, he tersely nodded at the witch, and looked around for any more attackers. He was already moving towards the last three remaining Death Eaters when he heard a multitude of popping sounds announcing the appearance of several witches and wizards clad in dark scarlet robes - Aurors, from the ministerial department of magical law enforcement. As soon as the Aurors arrived, the remaining three Death Eaters turned where they stood and disapparated away from the Lane, knowing they were both outmatched and outnumbered. _Cowards,_ thought James, frustrated.

As soon as the Aurors ensured that the remaining Death Eaters had all fled, they began rounding up those criminals who were incapacitated by those in the Lane who had fought - a paltry number compared to the total number of people who were in the Lane initially. Unsurprisingly, most of the people had disapparated at the first sign of trouble. Barking orders to his subordinates, the Auror who appeared to be the squad leader quickly rounded up the Death Eaters while healing the injured. After assigning another Auror to question the fighters, the leader headed to where James and the witch who had fought with him were standing. He was a middle aged man, stout with thinning brown hair with a thin face and dark serious eyes. His posture showed that he was still ready for action, in spite of the fact that all the remaining Death Eaters had turned tail.

"My name's Savage, and it's my job to make a report of this attack," he spoke in a stern sort of voice. "And seeing as the two of you almost single-handedly beat six of those scum, I suppose you're the people to talk to," he finished with a grim expression on his face. James nodded, having recognized the man as one of his father's subordinates, and began to explain how he had initially heard the screams and spell fire while inside the Falling Star (which, the Death Eaters didn't trouble at all, probably knowing that the anti-aggression wards would stop them), how he'd seen the attack from the window and ran out and assisted the witch and fought the Death Eaters, killing one and incapacitating another. Nodding at him, Savage moved on to the witch who was standing a few feet away waiting for her round of questioning. Looking at her, James could see that she was around his age and quite beautiful, with dark brown hair that fell in cascading waves to her waist, a heart-shaped face adorned with an aquiline nose and dark grey eyes. She was also wearing dress robes which were splattered with blood, much like his, which he hadn't noticed before in the heat of the battle. Oddly, her hair shone a burnished red in the morning sun's light. She spoke in a soft tone with the Auror Savage, her description considerably longer than James', probably because she had been in the Lane when the Death Eaters had arrived. When she was finished, Savage thanked her and called for his assistant and gave his colleague the report that he had made with the help of a dicta-quill.

"What about situation here, Bones?" asked Savage to the other Auror.

Bones grimaced slightly before replying in a grave voice, "Six people dead sir, and seventeen injured. Of the Death Eaters, three dead and two captured," she paused, before continuing, "They appear to be low ranking members sir. From what we got out of them, they were just ordered to create panic," said Bones, disgust on her face, something that was mirrored by Savage. James scowled in hate, cursing the fanatical Death Eaters and their leader, the dark wizard Voldemort under his breath, while the brown haired witch standing next to him had an impassive face. After talking for a while, the witch left their company and headed down the street. James turned to Savage with a question on his lips, only to have Savage answer him before he could get a word out.

"You know the rules lad, I can't disclose much information to ya," Savage looked at him in the eye, continuing with a grave face, "although that's not to say that your old man won't. So I suppose you can know now, it'd probably save you and Lord Charles a lot of time," his face cracked into a small smile. James grinned back. "These _Death Eaters_," he spat, "have been getting more and more active lately. It seems as though their master, that Voldemort, is trying for a more direct approach," he said scowling. James and Savage talked of the other attacks by the Death Eaters, and of the few stray hits by the Death Eaters on muggleborns who were rather vocal about Wizarding Britain. Eventually, his second-in-command, Auror Bones and their men finished interrogating all the witnesses and James bid them farewell, and with a jolt remembered about his blind date. Hastily making his way back to the Falling Star, he released the charms on his robes, reverting them to their previously flowing nature and cleaned off the dirt and gore, fighting down the unpleasant feeling in his stomach as he tried not to think about the fact that he had killed a person not ten minutes earlier. He knew that he was justified in killing cowardly murderers, as the Minister for Magic Millicent Bagnold had approved of the kill-on-sight legislation for anyone wearing the infamous black masks a few weeks ago, after the Death Eaters had taken their assaults up a notch, killing many muggles in villages and towns all over the countryside. Reaching the Falling Star, he nodded to the wizard standing at the verandah and stepped inside and quickly walked to his alcove where he had been sitting before, only to pause as he saw a girl with golden blonde hair dressed in fine robes sitting there, looking around rather impatiently with an expression of irritation on her face.

Frustrated with his luck, he resumed walking towards his table causing the girl to notice him and look at him with an annoyed expression on her face. _Great, looks like she's been waiting for me to show up and probably thought I was stood her up,_ thought James resigning himself to what promised to be an unpleasant meal.

"My deepest apologies, my lady," he began in attempt to apologize, bowing low from his waist, "I had some trouble with the Death Eaters' attack. . ."

**Well, that's chapter 3 done, although I think I could have made it better. I suppose I'll edit it at some point of time. Anyway, R&R please! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The fireplace that served as the floo point at Potter Villa roared to life in as James stepped out of the green flames and on to the lush carpeted floor of the estate. He brandished his wand, and with a murmured incantation, vanished all the ash and dust on his clothes. It was one of the troubles with travelling by floo - you would always get covered in a fine layer of dust and ash, placing you in danger of having to spend an entire day sneezing from dust inhalation if you were unfortunate. But, it was also the preferred mode of travel for those who disliked the extremely uncomfortable sensation of being squeezed through a straw, which was the side effect of apparation.

James had just finished cleaning himself and the fireplace, when a sound resembling the explosion of a low powered reductor curse announced the apparition of Tally, the other house elf to serve the Potters at the Villa. Unlike Tillie, Tally was an older house elf and therefore was more controlled with her emotions when someone would thank her. That's not to say that she wasn't excitable no, not at all. She was just better controlled, but that control seemingly always vanished whenever James was nearby. If James didn't know any better, he would think that his house elves had something similar to a crush on him.

Shaking his head to prevent his mind from conjuring up some truly disturbing images, James addressed the diminutive elf. "What is it, Tally?" As always, she made a small squeak of excitement before controlling herself.

"Master Charles and Mistress Dorea asking Tally to tell Master James to see them, they does," answered Tally energetically.

James felt his lips twist in amusement at the antics of the house elf. He nodded and said, "Alright. Thanks Tally. You may go now." As always, she let out another excited squeak before apparating away with the signature elvish _crack_.

When she was gone though, the smile on his lips died and all the apprehension from earlier returned in full force. He wasn't worried about the blonde haired girl who had been his date, because despite the fact that he was to have an arranged marriage, he knew that neither of his parents would ever pressure him into _anything _that he wasn't comfortable with. While his future wife was to be a pureblood witch, he knew that both Charles and Dorea would seek his say-so before any marriage could be finalised. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves somewhat, he set off for the study where he knew his father awaited him.

On reaching the study, he could see that the door was open. Looking through the door, he noticed his father sitting at his usual place on the plush armchair behind the desk and in front of the fireplace, reading from a thick wad of parchment in his hands. His mother was not present in the room.

James felt his nervousness rise slightly at the sight of his father, working without rest. He knew that one day, he would become the Head of the Potter family, and it would fall to him to uphold the image of the Noble House of Potter. Oh, how he dreaded that moment. Despite all the confidence that he exuded normally, all the cheerfulness that he usually showed at school, James never really felt that he would ever be prepared to take on the role of that was expected of him by Charles and Dorea. He never had much patience nor did he have much charm or subtlety. Which probably was the reason he was sorted into Gryffindor, not that James agreed with _that_ reasoning. He wanted to be a healer, but he knew that he wasn't strong enough in Potions to get an apprenticeship at any hospital.

In his little group of friends, or rather, marauders, Remus was the one who was the expert when it came to potion making for pranks. James usually specialized in the spell casting part of the pranks, while Sirius came up with the insane ideas that made their pranks so memorable and humorous. Well, humorous for anyone who wasn't a Slytherin that is.

He also knew that there was a small chance that he could take Quidditch up as a profession. If he couldn't find a place on the professional circuit, James was confident that he would make a successful coach, especially after captaining the Gryffindor Quidditch team to victory for a record twenty seven matches in a row. And he knew for a fact that while some of that success was because of his skill as a Chaser and the rest of the team's individual skills, there was also the factor that with his training, the team could play for hours and hours without stopping. Unlike the captains of the other house teams, James had his players do a few exercises every day instead of piling up the training for their practice sessions. And all he had to do was endure a few weeks of complaints from his teammates, which stopped after they trounced Ravenclaw by a margin of more than three hundred points in their first match captained by James. So, James was pretty confident that he would make a decent coach.

And as a last option, he could join the Ministry. But that was a sort of last resort for James. The Ministry was a corrupt body, filled with bootlicking and backstabbing people, whose sole aim was to climb positions in a body where bloodline and money dictated the bureaucracy. And while James could easily rise in the Ministry because of his heritage and who his father had been, he had no intentions of riding his father's coattails all his life, unlike certain other people he could name. It used to be different in his father's time, when Charles used to work in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement nearly twenty years ago. But gradually over time, the standards at the Ministry had fallen to the point that people like Dolores Umbridge, one of the most pathetic women James had ever met, could now work directly in the Minister's office as Junior Undersecretary. No, the Ministry was _not_ an option. Not if he wanted to maintain any sense of dignity. Besides, he knew that neither his father nor his mother would ever approve of it, even if they would never say it to his face.

Shaking his head slightly, clearing it of his cheerless thoughts, James knocked softly on the open door to the study to announce his presence. On hearing the faint sound, Charles looked up from his work and on seeing James at the doorway, he grinned. Beckon him into the room, Charles flicked his wrist summoning his wand from where it usually lay in the wrist holster on his right hand and cast a Patronus charm. The silver mist expelled from his wand convalesced quickly to the shape of a wildcat and the silver apparition leapt from the room. "It will fetch your mother," said Charles in response to James' questioning look. "I know that she will want to hear about your meeting from you, and I think that you don't want to tell the tale more than once," he finished with amusement.

Nodding wryly in agreement, James eased into the dark beige coloured chaise longue resting against the wall. Aware of his father's heavy gaze on him, James closed his eyes in order to pass the time without having Charles sense his inner turmoil. After a few moments, the sounds of rushing footsteps announced the arrival of his mother to the study. He opened his eyes just in time to see Dorea take her place on the settee beside him, with a look of anticipation on her face.

"Well now that we are all here, I think your mother and I would like to hear about your get-together with the young heiress of the Winchester estate," began Charles. "So son, tell us everything."

James looked first at his father and then at his mother. Sensing the beginnings of unease marring the looks of happiness on their faces, he took a deep breath and began telling an account of his morning. All through his narration, neither his father nor his mother moved from where they were sitting. And James couldn't tell their thoughts from looking at their faces. When he was done recounting his tale of his adventure in Bootclick Lane and his time with the future Lady Winchester, he sat back waiting for the inevitable sighs of disappointment.

And he wasn't wrong. "Sometimes James, I wish you weren't so headstrong. Goodness knows my heart would have an easier time if you weren't," sighed Dorea, with her face set in a slightly sad expression.

James hung his head. He knew that his mother would be disappointed, but the next words that came out of her mouth made his head jolt upwards.

"Honestly James, couldn't you at least try to get someone else to help you?" she scolded him, frowning. "You could've gotten seriously hurt, or worse killed!" she shouted, in a rare moment of losing her remarkable self control, which also had the effect of making James flinch.

"B-but mum I-" James' stuttering was cut off by Dorea jumping up from the sofa and pacing to and fro along the length of the study. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? How utterly stupid and reckless that was, to fight the Death Eaters on your own?" she shrieked, her voice cracking slightly. "I know that you are a good dueller, I know that you're the Junior champion in England, but James-" she stopped, throwing her hands up in the air to convey her feelings of hopelessness. "There is a reason why the Death Eaters have a kill on sight order upon them James, and it's not because they wear those horrible masks and prance around in those ridiculous robes! Death Eaters kill anyone who gets in their way! And nobody in their right minds would seek them out when they're on a rampage!"

Throughout the duration of her rant, James withdrew further and further into the couch in shame. He had made his mother angry, and looking back, it was a stupid thing to do to attack the Death Eaters without any help. Noticing this, Dorea paused her angry rant and sat right beside him enveloping his frame in a fierce embrace. She didn't say anything, just held her son close knowing that he was especially sensitive when it came to anything that displeased either her or Charles. _I hope this rather childish nature of his goes away soon, _she sighed internally, _or how in Merlin's name will he ever survive the politics that comes with being Lord Potter? _

It had been sweet and heartening for her when he was just a little boy, but when her son couldn't stand to have his mother scold him when he was seventeen years old, that was getting a little too much for her to bear. She held him for a long moment and then pulled back. On seeing him look at her with a glum face, she knew she had to do something about this. "Look James, this has got to stop," she spoke sternly. On seeing his confused face, she continued, "I mean, this whole thing with you not being able to face either me or your father when we get angry or disappointed with you," she elaborated in an exasperated voice.

Seeing the beginnings of another withdrawal, she spoke hurriedly, "Listen to me, son. I know that you care a lot for our approval, but this is just taking things too far. You're turning seventeen today, and your reaction from earlier is something what I would expect from a seven year old not someone who's of age!" she paused, and steadied herself. "You will one day be the Head of this family, and it will be up to you to decide what is best for all of us, including your wife and children. You will also take up the seat on the Wizengamot, where your every movement and action will most definitely be judged and analyzed by our rivals, looking for some weakness that they can exploit. And this sort of behaviour would make people want to take you for granted, which is something that neither I nor your father would ever want," she continued gently, "You must steel yourself honey, to take advice and not be weak in front of anyone."

"W-w-what are you asking, mum? That I become unemotional and cold and shut out everything?" asked James in a low voice laced with dread.

"No, never that!" replied Dorea at once, making him quirk an eyebrow, "James, being strong doesn't mean any of that. It means that you must be able to take a beat down, like the one I gave you just now, and take it like a man who's not afraid of accepting his mistakes. You should learn to realize your mistakes and learn from them, so that you don't repeat them again in the future. Do you understand, son?" she pressed in a tender voice.

James nodded his head, properly chastised. "I'm sorry fo-" his mumblings were cut off by his mother saying sternly, "No, I don't want to hear any more apologies from you regarding your past behaviour. That's the first thing you are going to be working on : when either I or your father have anything to say to you that might not paint you in the best possible light, you will not start apologizing to us. You will listen to what we say, properly listen to us and think about whether we were right or whether we were wrong and you will tell us your opinions on the matter, like the man you are. So, let's try that again. Do you understand me, son?" prompted Dorea once more.

James raised his head to look into her eyes with a strengthened resolve. "Yes mum," he responded in a somewhat stronger voice. When he looked back at it, he could see easily that his mother was right. After all, how was he supposed to be able to function on his own if he couldn't handle a verbal beat down by his own mother, who had always wanted him to be the best he could be? _Imagine if anyone else found out about this,_ he thought with a shudder. No, it was definitely a good thing that this had happened now, rather than when he was married. He shuddered internally, that would have been completely mortifying.

"Good," responded Dorea, "now that that's over with, do you have any idea how reckless you were?!" she raged, resuming her rant.

Helplessly, James turned to his father for any support that he might get from that side. However, the only thing he got was a small upturning of the corners of Charles' mouth, with the older man seemingly content to let his wife finish her rant without being caught in the crossfire. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity to James, his father spoke out loud, breaking Dorea from her continuous tirade.

"While I agree with your mother that seeking out a fight with those outlaws was foolish, I can't help but wonder about these _Death Eaters_ as they call themselves," spoke Charles slowly, "there has been a steady rise in the number of attacks by this group in the past few years..." he trailed off.

Dorea picked it up quickly, "Almost as though they have gained confidence in the past few months," she continued with a frown on her soft features.

James knew that. The Death Eaters under the dark wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort - here James snorted, at the meaning behind the name - supposedly fought against the ever- increasing muggleborn influx into the British magical society. They claimed that muggleborns should not be allowed to use magic, and for lesser powers and rights given to muggles, squibs and muggleborns. But everyone knew better. Lord Voldemort and his minions were little more than insurgents, trying to overthrow the Ministry of Magic and seize power for themselves, for their own selfish and insane reasons. They believed that the bloodline of a witch or a wizard was the most important thing when it came to magical ability and that those of a more muggle ancestry should be prevented from even existing. The obvious racism (or whatever they called it) aside, it was clear to everyone with half a brain that magical ability had nothing to do with ancestry. Even the most orthodox of families would admit that there had been muggleborns and half-bloods who became exceptional witches and wizards. Heck, Albus Dumbledore was a half-blood and he was considered to be one of the most powerful wizards to ever live. No, what the _Death Eaters_ wanted was nothing other than chaos and mayhem. That was the reason behind the decision by the Minister of Magic to issue the kill-on-sight order for all who wore the infamous skull masks of the Death Eaters. It had drawn some opposition and shock from the muggleborns in the Wizengamot - who claimed it be barbaric and cruel, which, predictably instantly united the rest of the Wizengamot to rule in its favour. Nothing riled the older families more than muggleborns with their holier-than-thou attitudes and pathetic muggle citations.

"It seems as though this Voldemort has gained more support," spoke Charles thoughtfully, "either that, or they are simply confident in their ability."

"I don't think it's their ability Dad," argued James. "I was able to take out nearly five of them - well I had help," he amended, thinking about the witch who had fought alongside him.

"Ah yes. But you forget yourself James," disagreed Charles with a thin smile. "I do not think they were expecting to face a duelling champion when they set out today. No, I do not think they would merit such attention from the Ministry if they weren't truly a threat to everybody in England. As it stands, I don't think the threat is limited to just England...I believe that this _Voldemort_, as he calls himself, would not stop with England," said Charles grimly.

"But surely, he won't be successful!" cried James, aghast. Voldemort was evil, no questions asked. To even _think_ of his possible success was horrible.

"It is not something that I would ever want son," frowned Charles, "but at the rate at which things are going in this land, I fear that there is a very high chance that Voldemort could succeed in his misbegotten quest to conquer this land."

"B-b-but Dumbledore! Couldn't he do anything to stop Voldemort?" James tried, desperate for some hope against what he thought would be hell in reality.

Charles snorted. "Yes, Dumbledore. He is certainly powerful enough to stop these murderers, including Voldemort. But what the man has in power, he lacks in attitude."

"What do you mean, dad?" wondered James, confused? _What could be wrong with Dumbledore?_

Dorea explained, while Charles gave a sigh of frustration.

"What your father means is that Dumbledore is too much of a pacifist to actually fight," she said gravely, "you may not know this, but during the war against Grindelwald, Albus waited for nearly ten years before he confronted him."

"What!" sputtered James, his eyes wide in disbelief.

Dorea nodded with a hard expression. "Yes, it's true. I suppose you are not taught this in your History lessons, it's too recent. Not to mention unimportant in the grand scheme of things as far as the war went. But the fact remains that the French, Polish and German Ministries had called for Albus' help several times, and he didn't answer any of them," she elaborated. "Well, it wasn't so much of a call rather than a desperate plea for assistance," she amended with a thoughtful look on her face.

"But why?! Why didn't he help?" said James, trying to come to grips with the fact that the venerable headmaster of his school, the most powerful wizard in Britain had failed to act sooner.

"He never gave any explanation for his silence or inaction," scowled Charles, "and because of that, countless people died. Both muggles and wizards. Looking back, I suppose this is another motivation behind the Ministry's kill-on-sight order. It seems that Bagnold doesn't want to leave anything to chance. I suppose she thinks that in the event of Dumbledore failing us again, the tide of the war might be decided on numbers alone."

"And with more Death Eaters dead, the greater the chance our Aurors have to win the war," finished Dorea.

"But mum," said James frowning, "there isn't a war going on. . ."

Charles sighed. "That's what everyone wants to believe, son. I suppose the idea of a wizarding war is too scary to most people. I don't blame them," he said darkly, "what with Grindelwald a few decades ago, people are scared what might happen if a war were to break out. I suppose it is a small mercy that not even this Voldemort seems insane enough to involve the muggles."

He let out a breath. "The war with Grindelwald was a horrible one, one of the worst in the last millennium. Grindelwald was foolish enough to allow his little rebellion to spill over on to the muggle world. Nearly sixty million people died in that war, of which ten million were wizards," he finished, looking at James with a morose expression.

James couldn't speak. The idea that nearly as many wizards as those who lived in Europe today had died had robbed him of his vocal powers. He had known, as had every witch and wizard, about the war with Grindelwald in the 1930's and the early 1940's, but he had never imagined such carnage. That so many wizards had died was - no words could imagine the shock and sorrow that he felt during that moment. Every drop of magical blood was precious - wizards were rare as it was, especially when compared to the muggle population. That was one of the reasons why the old families tolerated the some of the more idiotic ideas of the muggleborns - it wasn't because they were particularly benevolent, it was because of the scarcity of magical blood. To think that Grindelwald was indirectly responsible (he couldn't have been directly responsible, because no megalomaniac wants to kill off everyone. There has to _someone_ left to rule after all) for such an enormous loss of life made James queasy. He sat down heavily on the reclining sofa which stood against the wall of the Potter study, and buried his head in his hands. And Dumbledore! Dumbledore had actually allowed all that to happen when there was a chance that he could have prevented it from happening. Like most every other student who attended Hogwarts, James idolized Dumbledore. To James, the ancient headmaster with the long silvery hair was Merlin reincarnate. Everything he had heard about the old man always spoke of the great things that he had done in his youth - which, ironically, also included his famous defeat of the Dark Lord Grindelwald in 1945.

But now, with the knowledge that Dumbledore had - however unknowingly - sentenced so many people to their deaths had shattered the image that James had built up in his mind about the old wizard. He did not know how and what he felt about the man now - he needed some time to properly organize his thoughts and his mind to recover from the bombshell that his father dropped not five minutes ago - but he knew that he would never again view the headmaster with the same regard that he had for most of his life.

James lost track of how long he sat holding his head in the sofa. He was only dimly aware of his mother and father speaking in low tones to each other. After what felt like hours, he became aware of his father addressing him. He lifted his face with an apologetic expression, silently asking his father to repeat what he had told James just a few seconds ago.

With a faint smile on his face, Charles replied, "I was saying that you should prepare yourself for today's party. There shall be many guests coming tonight, and I want you to look presentable."

James inwardly grimaced. He didn't like social gatherings - especially the ones where there were a lot of old puffed-up nobles. But that didn't mean that he would ever shy away from them. He was the heir to the Noble House of Potter and he would never shame his House as long as he lived. So, he gave a courteous nod to his father, effortlessly slipping back into the cultured pureblood heir, kissed his mother's cheek and exited the room, making towards his bedroom for a nap before he would dive into another evening filled with too much posturing for his tastes.

**And that's Chapter 4. I'm really sorry about the LONG delay, but my end-semester exams were upon me in the last month. That, coupled with the incredible thing that is Assassin's Creed IV really left me with very little time to write this. BTW Black Flag is amazing! The best AC yet in my opinion. Anyway, have a great Christmas vacation everybody and a very Happy New Year!**


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